Monday, January 25, 2016

You know you are loved when you find your 10-year-old in the kitchen making pudding for you and your husband to take with you to the doctor the next day for lunch. Hunter made us chocolate pudding and was hand beating it together with an egg whisk. Not a normal round whisk, but an egg whisk with only 4 metal loops that break up the yolks and whip the eggs together with. It's really only good for eggs or gravy, but it was the cutest thing seeing Hunter standing there mixing it up in a huge white bowl; a bowl big enough to hold 8 times the amount of pudding he was making. :)

He asked what else we wanted for lunch tomorrow so he could pack it up for us. My heart melted. It was hard telling him that we'd probably be home for lunch so he didn't need to pack anything. It didn't bother him. He just put some aluminum foil over the pudding, stuck it in the fridge, and went on his way, proud that he could help make his dad something for lunch when he knows we are meeting with the doc about the chemo plan he is now looking at.

Later on I snuck the bowl of pudding out of the fridge and put it into a smaller bowl so I had more room to put something else in there. As I was scooping it out of the big white bowl, I noticed it wasn't quite all the way mixed. Again, my heart melted for that cute boy I get to call my son. So I stirred it up a little more, poured it into another dish, and had a taste, or two, or three, of his yummy pudding. I love when he does this stuff for us. He sure feels big when he makes his pudding. :)

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

The Mess-Up

We've started reading the Book of Mormon with our boys this year. Each night we try to read a chapter. Everyone takes turns reading. Tonight it was Cody's turn. It didn't exactly start out as reverent as you might want it to go, and things quickly escalated. He began reading like he was on stage and then the mess-up came.

We were reading in 1 Nephi 13:10 "And it came to pass that I looked and beheld many waters; and they divided the Gentiles from the seed of my brethern."

That's how it's supposed to read.

Cody read: "And it came to pass that I looked and beheld any waters; and they divided the genitals ..."

Oh my, you should have heard the laughter come out of that one! We all about died! And then it escalated even more. Cody began switching up his accents as he read, with laughter from the peanut gallery following every word he emphasized in some weird accent. It wasn't the most reverent reading, that's for sure, but it was fun and memorable.

I love these crazy, wild boys of ours.

Friday, January 15, 2016

I realized something tonight. I do the arthritic hand rub I would always see my dad do. The one where you rub one hand over the other in a sideways motion over the knuckles. I've been doing this for a few years now, but much more than I care to admit this year. And once the rub is done, fingers are massaged and then kind of held by the other hand all the while hoping this will somehow take the pain away.

The year I turned 30, I began noticing the arthritis had started in my hands. First it started in my pinky fingers, then almost year by year, it crept through the rest of the fingers; the ring finger being next and so on. My grip has lessened and I've noticed I drop a lot more things this year. My hands swell, and my knuckles are definitely getting bigger. My hands look like old lady's hands already with this and the lovely dry skin I have. The arthritis is prevalent throughout all the knuckles, and now, my middle finger and pointer finger will feel like they are trying to curve over at times; almost like they are trying to twist right around. I know what this is. Or so I feel like I do. Rheumatoid arthritis. My dad's side of the family has it terribly in their hands. My grandma and almost all her sisters had the crippling type that left big knuckles and their fingers twisted in ways you never want to see fingers go; almost a wave like look to them like the ocean had caused them to curve over. When I think of the Thackers side (my Grandma Kenison's side), their hands are one of the things that I remember most. My mom's side has rheumatoid arthritis as well, but not as crippling as my dad's.

I remember about 4-5 years back. Jim and my dad stopped by for a minute in Jim's truck. It was spring time and warm enough that we only had to wear jackets at night. I walked out to the truck to say hi to dad and I saw him rubbing his hands. He'd said he was having a lot of trouble with them with lots of pain and swelling. I looked down at his hands and was shocked at how swollen they were. It was like he was wearing a fat suit that included his hands. They were so puffy, it almost looked fake. He could barely make half a fist. He didn't know why they all of a sudden became so bad, but I could tell it was miserable for him. It was hard for him to work and use the tools he needed to to repair the machines. I asked him to go to the doctor and he said he had decided he needed to. Aunt Kathy was on a trial pill that was working well for her. She wanted dad to get on it, but he never did. He ended up taking some kind of inflammation reducer and it did help. His swelling went way down and he could work without hurting as much. Dad became my arthritis buddy. I've had arthritis in my knees since I was a teenager. In fact, when I had a surgery at 17, the doc said he had "cleaned up" the arthritis, so who knows when I actually started to get it. Dad and I would compare pains and ask how the other one was doing. We'd predict storms coming and I tell you what.... we were right. Dad always knew what to say to comfort me when we'd take about arthritis and I'd tell him how it was moving in on me more. I miss that. I miss how strong he was and would work through the pain no matter what. He always inspired me and continues to, to just keep going. He was the one who told me why I couldn't make fists in the morning. I'd wake up and it was like my hands wouldn't work for a bit after I'd wake up. This started in my early 20's, but I didn't say anything to anyone except Jared. They were so weak, I could barely hold on to or pick up things. It was the arthritis. Dad's did the same thing. Aunt Kathy told me at the luncheon after dad's funeral that she would be my new arthritis buddy. Sadly, I know Aunt Kathy knows what arthritis pain is like, too. We Kenison's are lucky enough to be plagued with this, I guess.

It just hit me as I was doing "the rub", how for years I'd see my dad do the same thing. I'd see him rub his knuckles as he was sitting in his chair watching tv. I see him do the rub as he was working and would take a break as he'd let his hands rest. I'd see it as I was cutting his hair. He always seemed to be rubbing his hands. Somehow it makes it feel like there's one small thing we can do to relieve the pain, when honestly, there is absolutely nothing they can do for it other than mask the pain somewhat with a pill. It doesn't take the crippling part away, however.

I subconsciously have been doing this for a few years now, and tonight I realized another connection I have with my dad. The arthritic rub.

I miss my arthritis buddy.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Hunter was looking through some of my keepsakes from my childhood/teenage years. After finding something he really liked, the tiny porcelain kitty, he came to me and asked...

"Mom, when you die, can I have this?"

I just looked at him and said, "Thanks Hunter."

He laughed and said, "Well, can I just have this someday?"

As the boys were going to bed tonight, I overheard Hunter tell T.J. and Cody,

"When mom dies, I'm getting her little kitty."

Cody, to my defense, says, "Um, can we not discuss this? It's weird. It's weird to think about our parents dying someday."

Goodness, I think Hunter really wants that little cat. Maybe I should just give it to him before he puts a pox on me. Ha ha!
Hunter: "Mom? What's pooberty?"
Me: "Um, why?"
Hunter: "Cause I want to know so I know what they're talking about on (the movie) Inside Out."

Ha ha! Oh that kid!